She could do nothing. She was frozen in a drug-induced paralysis, her body unmoving, but her mind unbearably alert and aware.
Something inside of her snapped. The last thread of hope, reduced to just a fragile gossamer-like strand, was gone. The walls that had shielded her mind, kept her safe and blissfully ignorant, shattered like paper thin crystal. No more illusions.
She couldn’t fight him.
No one was coming.
And there was no way out.
An eerie serenity came with acceptance; she knew this now. With a silent prayer asking for forgiveness, Lacie relinquished the last of her consciousness, giving in to the fatigue and weariness of her body and mind.
As the dark clouds built around the edges of her mind’s eye, finally offering the peace she so craved, she hoped she never, ever woke again.
And then... it was the strangest thing. Lacie felt completely weightless, as if she was rising, floating on a cloud. There was no pain – only peace. All of the discomfort, the aches, the soreness was mercifully gone. Lacie tentatively flexed her hands, her arms, her legs. Everything seemed to be working perfectly.
She opened her eyes and gasped, but there was no sound from the action. She was no longer in bed; she was floating above it, looking down...
Lacie felt no fear, only the mild interest of an impartial observer. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon, the first rays of the sun slanting in through the cabin window, illuminating everything in a soft, washed-out glow. Beneath her, Craig was lying face down, just beginning to stir from sleep. His large body was wrapped around something, holding it tightly to him as a child might hold a treasured stuffed animal. He nuzzled it and drew it closer, before stilling.
Not a stuffed animal. Her.
It was surreal. Lacie drifted serenely above, watching Craig as he began to realize that something was terribly wrong.
Her hair was splayed across the pillow. When had it gotten that long? Her skin was deathly pale, her brown lashes looking exceptionally dark against it. She looked so peaceful lying there, unnaturally still. She felt at peace, too.
Free.
Craig was shouting; at least she thought he was. Her ears didn’t seem to be working properly; she could hear nothing but silence; it was like watching a movie with the television muted and cotton in her ears. She could see his mouth moving, a look of panic on his face as he shook her body and slapped her cheeks, but she remained limp and unresponsive. He bent his head and pressed it against her chest, listening for a heart that had gone still.
Then he was turning away, looking toward the door. Someone else was here. Oooo, he was big, and dark, and strong – he hauled Craig away from the bed like he was a small child. He looked so familiar.
Another man was there, too. He looked like the first guy, but leaner. He had a big black bag with him. Lacie watched as he quickly checked for a pulse at the side of her neck, lifted her eyelids, put his face right near her nose....
She recognized him....Michael! Shane’s brother, the doctor. So the other one must have been a brother, too. That’s why she thought she had seen him before. The family resemblance was strong, just like in the two that had been at the Pub that day.
Uh-oh. Michael looked upset. He was talking into something, then he was straddling her body, pressing rhythmically against her chest, calling out to someone else, someone she couldn’t see...
Then Shane was there, and she felt a pang of sorrow. He was so beautiful, and he looked so sad. Michael was talking to him, telling him to do something.
Michael moved back and Shane bent over her, kissing her. Ah, Shane was the most wonderful kisser! No, no, he wasn’t kissing her; he had his mouth over hers and he was breathing air into it, pinching her nose to keep it closed as her chest rose and fell.
It was mesmerizing.
Where had Craig gone? She wondered vaguely. Oh, there he was. He was crying, trying to get back to the bed but the big guy wouldn’t let him.
A fourth guy entered. God, he was even bigger than the first guy. One huge fist shot out of nowhere, and suddenly Craig was laid out on the floor, quiet.
Michael was yelling again and the big bear-like guy was rummaging around Michael’s bag, pulling out a syringe. Michael stopped compressions long enough to jab the long needle into her chest. When the plunger was fully depressed he removed it, tossing it carelessly aside and then hit her chest so hard the entire bed shook.
Lacie felt a strange tingle somewhere deep in her chest. What was that? It grew stronger, like an irresistible tug right behind her navel. Her vision was getting cloudy, too, as if she was being encompassed by a fine, silvery mist. It felt surprisingly cool and pleasant.
Was it time to leave already?